


The Light In The Bottle

by likethenight



Series: Writers' Month 2020 [11]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Celebrations, Gen, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: At Aragorn and Arwen's wedding, Sam scrunches up his courage to thank Galadriel for the Light of Eärendil which saved Frodo's life (and, he might reluctantly admit, his own).Ficlet written for Writers' Month 2020, day 11, prompt "light".
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & Sam Gamgee
Series: Writers' Month 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867720
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	The Light In The Bottle

In Minas Tirith, after everything was over and they had - mostly - recovered from their wounds, Sam and Frodo attended the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen, along with more or less everyone they had met during their long journey. It was a truly joyous occasion, and once the ceremony was done there was a feast, and after the feast there was music, and dancing, and drinking, and everyone let go of all the fear and worry they had been carrying and let themselves be happy. Merry and Pippin were drinking ale at a table with the Lady Éowyn, Mr Legolas and Lord Glorfindel, and it sounded as though they were all having a marvellous time, just like everyone else.

Well, almost everyone. Sam could not help watching Frodo, and he knew that there was more sorrow and pain in Frodo’s heart than there ought to be. Sam couldn’t carry that burden for him, and it made his own heart hurt to think of it. Frodo was sitting a little apart from the dancing, and he was smiling as he watched, but Sam knew better. 

A movement in the corner of Sam’s eye caught his attention, a shimmer of silver-golden light, and he turned to see the Lady Galadriel, standing near him and talking softly to her husband. A thought suddenly came to Sam, and before he could think better of it he took a long draught of his ale, scrunched up his courage, and made his way across to them. 

Bowing carefully, he looked up at her, trying not to blink too much in the face of her brightness. “Begging your pardon, my Lady, but I - I wanted to say thank you.”

“Master Gamgee,” she said with a smile, “I have been hearing many tales of your adventures since last I saw you. We all owe you and Frodo a great debt of thanks.”

“Oh,” said Sam, briefly nonplussed, he had been trying not to think about that. Pulling himself together, he forged on. “But we couldn’t have done any of it without you, my Lady. You gave us the magic Elven rope, and that got us out of a tight spot, and the cloaks, and those got us out of another one. But most of all, you gave us the light in the bottle, and, and -“ he broke off for a moment, struggling for words, the memory was still very fresh, and filled him with horror. 

“The light of Eärendil,” murmured Galadriel, and her husband - Lord Celeborn, that was his name, Sam remembered now, smiled down at him.

“Do you know, Eärendil is Elrond’s father, and therefore grandfather to Arwen and her brothers, just as Galadriel and I are their grandparents?” he said softly, and Sam clutched gratefully at the distraction.

“Oh. Oh, I didn’t know that, my lord. But…he’s a star?”

“It’s a long story,” said Celeborn. “Come, let us find somewhere to sit, Master Gamgee. It will be much easier to talk when we are at a similar level.”

And so Sam found himself sitting at a table with the Lady and the Lord of the Golden Wood, and someone brought him a tankard of ale, and wine for the Lady and the Lord, and Lord Celeborn told him the story of Lord Elrond’s father, with his boat in the sky and the star he carried. 

“That’s the short version,” said Celeborn as he finished. “Like all of our histories, it’s really much more complicated than that, but now you have an idea of it.”

“I do, my lord,” said Sam carefully. “And the light, it - it saved Mr Frodo, right when he really needed it. There was a, a giant spider -“ he shuddered, “and it had him, but he dropped the light and it frightened the spider away.”

“I heard it told slightly differently,” said Galadriel with a smile. “The version I heard included a very brave Hobbit who snatched up the light and held it up so that the spider could not escape from it, and who then saved Frodo from a fate too terrible to speak of.”

Sam blushed scarlet. “Well, I suppose, my lady, but…but I only did what anyone would do. To get Mr Frodo back, and to get the Ring to where it had to go. I wasn’t brave.” He looked at his feet. “I was scared the whole time. Terrified, really. Not brave.”

“Sam,” said Galadriel, and he could hear the smile in her voice, though he couldn’t bring himself to look at her face, “Sam, being brave doesn’t mean not being afraid. It means being afraid, sometimes dreadfully, and doing what you have to do anyway. And that is what you did.”

Sam didn’t quite know what to say to that. “But…but I couldn’t have done it without the light, my lady,” he managed eventually. “And the cloaks, and the rope. We wouldn’t have got very far without them. So thank you, truly.”

“You are very welcome,” said Galadriel, and she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “All of Arda thanks you for your courage.”

“Now,” said Celeborn, glancing across the room to where Frodo still sat on his own. “I think you should go and see if you can persuade Frodo to lay aside his cares for the rest of the evening, and join in the celebrations. I know Aragorn and Arwen will like to see both of you enjoying yourselves.”

“I suppose so, my lord,” said Sam, taking it as a dismissal with some relief; the Elves were wonderful, they really were, and their realms were beautiful to visit, but too long in their company made his skin prickly. “Thank you, my lord. My lady.” And he slipped off his chair and bowed, and then beat a rather hasty retreat back to the other side of the room. Time to see if Mr Frodo might want at least to come and sit with the rest of their friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry and Pippin are telling tall tales with Glorfindel, and he is thanking Merry and Éowyn for proving him right, mostly by pouring ale into them. The story of that part of the evening appears in [Tales of Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937002).


End file.
